I'd Rather Be With You
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Post-Epish for Dead Again. All Carby, all the time :)
1. I'd Rather Be With You

Title: I'd Rather Be With You  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Through Dead Again, though, once again, the main idea of the ep is not given away in  
here. It's Carby fluff again. Of course.  
  
Archive: It would be fabulous, but just let me know.  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Der.  
  
  
  
  
I just didn't have the heart to wake Carter. He's so completely adorable when he sleeps. Of  
course, I think he's adorable all of the time, but I digress. He's had such a long day, he deserves a  
few hours of peace, even if it is on the couch in the longue at the hospital.  
  
But, that leaves me laying the couch at Carter's apartment alone. Which is no good. His  
apartment isn't any fun if he's not in it. This is actually kind of strange for me, because I usually  
really enjoy my time alone, even if I'm in a relationship. I like the space to breathe and relax and  
not worry about my significant other or about being a girlfriend. But, ever since I started dating  
Carter, it's been different. I don't like spending as much time alone. It's not that I can't handle  
being without him, it's just that I'd rather not. I love spending time with him, even if we're just  
vegged out on the couch, watching TV in silence. What can I say? The guy makes me happy.  
  
Of course, happy is a strange concept for me, too. I've been happy before. Just never this happy.   
Usually I have found that being in a relationship with someone you want isn't nearly as good as  
simply wanting someone. But this is so much better. I don't get tired of seeing him around all the  
time, which is great considering we see each other just about all day every day.   
  
Good God. I'm turning into such a sap. I'm laying on my boyfriend's couch, thinking about how  
happy he makes me and how I don't like being without him.  
  
But, we've being going out for a little over two months, and we're still in the honeymoon stage.   
The I-can't-keep-my-hands-off-of-you stage. We act like a couple of high schoolers most of the  
time. It's got to be annoying for everyone else.  
  
But, ask me if I care.  
  
I don't, by the way.  
  
Everyone deserves to feel this way at least once in their life, and I think it's only fair that it's my  
turn to have this. Not only have this, but to have it with someone who feels the exact same way  
about me. That makes the whole situation that much more enjoyable.  
  
Yep. I'm a sap, all right.  
  
I'm a half-way unconscious sap, too. The television is lulling me to sleep, and I would like to be  
awake when John comes home. Of course, I could always actually turn the damn thing off, but  
that would require moving, and I just don't feel like it at the moment.  
  
I'm halfway tempted to call the hospital and tell someone to wake his happy ass up and tell him to  
come home. But, once again, that would require moving. He'll probably be back soon, anyway.  
  
Yes, I did say "home," too. Because I basically consider this my home. We've spent the better  
part of the last two months in this place. We go over to my apartment once in a while, but I like  
this place much better. No history, no drama here. Just us. It's kind of like making a fresh start.   
I guess, though, home would be anywhere Carter is. As mushy and sentimental as that sounds.  
  
  
I need a hobby.  
  
All of a sudden I feel someone touch my cheek and practically fly into a sitting position on the  
couch, seriously freaked out.  
  
"Whoa! It's just me!"  
  
I look over and see Carter kneeling down in front of me, his eyes wide with surprise. Well, he  
scared me. I didn't know I'd fallen asleep.  
  
"Sorry," he tells me.  
  
I shake my head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs that have gathered while I was napping. "It's  
okay. I think I thought I was still awake, and thought I'd hear you come in. You just startled  
me."  
  
He leans in and gives me a soft kiss. Nope; still haven't gotten tired of kissing him. "My  
apologies," he whispers.  
  
"You're forgiven," I answer, kissing his forehead.  
  
He finally moves from his position on the floor to sit next to me on the couch. "I didn't mean to  
fall asleep on you like that. I guess I was more pooped than I realized."  
  
I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, sighing. "It's all right. I didn't want to wake  
you up. Though, I didn't know you'd be asleep for that long."  
  
He gently rubs my thigh. The man has magic fingers, I swear. "I was only asleep part of the time.   
One of the med students waited around for me and insisted that she get what she came for, so I  
had to show her around the hospital and explain how everything worked."  
  
"Sounds like fun."  
  
"Oh, it was. It was just what I wanted to do right then, too. Show some med student around  
when I knew you were waiting for me at home. Good times had by all."  
  
I chuckle a little and wrap my arms around his waist. "Well, you're here now, that's all that  
matters."  
  
I feel him turn his head a little, then he kisses my temple. "Have you eaten yet?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
  
I look at him, confused. "I wanted to wait for you."  
  
I love the grin that spreads across his face. "You're the greatest, Abby. You didn't have to wait,  
but I appreciate that you did." He leans in once more and kisses me, this time not as gently, but  
I'm not complaining. "So, should we be brave and cook something, or do you want to order in?"  
  
"Order in," I say, not even pausing to think about it. I'm tired, he's tired, it's late, so why not let  
someone else do the cooking for us?  
  
He nods in understanding and stands up, unfortunately, to look for the rather large collection of  
take-out menus we've collected in our time together. Hmmm. Maybe we should consider  
cooking more often than ordering in. It probably wouldn't kill us. Of course, cooking requires  
things like groceries and time, neither of which we have much of. Perhaps one day we'll be  
adventurous and go grocery shopping together or something, but I don't see that happening in the  
near future.  
  
In less than an hour we've decided what nation we want our food from, ordered it, and we just  
finished eating. Between the two of us, we know about a bunch of little-known, under-used take-  
out places, so the delivery time is usually exceptional. Especially at this time of night. So, at the  
moment, we're relaxing on the couch, letting our meals digest. That's when I notice that he's still  
rubbing the back of his, and I get a brilliant idea.  
  
Without a word, I stand up and leave him in the living room. I enter the bathroom and turn on the  
water in the bathtub, waiting for the temperature to be just this side of almost too hot before  
putting in the stopper to let it fill up. I dig out the Mr. Bubbles (yes, I am grown woman who  
uses Mr. Bubbles. Want to make something of it?) and dump a bunch into the tub, watching it  
foam up. Then I hurry into the bedroom to dig out some candles, find my lighter, then arrange  
and light them strategically around the bathroom. I look over at the tub and see that it's about to  
overflow, so I hurry to shut the water off. I stick my hand in for a moment. Perfect.  
  
"Oh, Jo-ohn," I call.  
  
He pauses for a moment before he finally says, "Yes?"  
  
"Come hither!"  
  
A moment later he appears in the doorway. He looks around in surprise and asks, "What's all  
this?"  
  
I shrug. "You had a long day. You need some time to unwind."  
  
"A bubble bath? I can't remember the last time I took a bubble bath."  
  
I pretend to pout. "Well, if you don't like..." I go over to pull out the stopper, but he puts a hand  
on my arm.  
  
"I love it. Thank you." He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head.  
  
"Of course, if you'd like some company, you know who to ask."  
  
"I'd like some company," he responds, almost before the words are out of my mouth.  
  
I grin into his chest. "I thought you'd never ask."  
  
We take our time undressing each other (everything is a seduction with us) before we finally drop  
into the tub. I sit behind him, which I don't think he was expecting. He was probably envisioning  
the typical soap opera type of bubble bath. Of course, there's nothing wrong with that, but this  
one is about him, so I need to be sitting behind him.  
  
For quite a while, we just sit there. My arms are wrapped around his chest, his hands are lazily  
stroking up and down my legs. My face is pressed against his, my chin resting on his shoulder.   
Every so often, I turn and place a little kiss on his cheek or neck.  
  
I love moments like this. Moments that seem to last forever. Moments that seem to last a  
lifetime, but never feel long enough. I think that even if we were together forever, it wouldn't be  
long enough. There would always be something new about him, something new that would  
amaze and astound me. And I love that feeling. I think I can honestly say that I've never felt that  
about anyone before. Of course, if he knew what I was thinking at this very moment, he would  
probably get highly freaked out. We really haven't been going out long enough for feelings like  
this to be abounding. On the other hand, I think there are times when you just know. Sometimes  
you can be with someone for years and not realize that you're not supposed to be with that  
person, and other times you're with someone for about a minute and you know that all the planets  
are aligned, the sun is shining, and there is peace in the world, even if that world is just your own.  
  
I mentally shake myself. I have to stop being so freaking sentimental. This can't be healthy.  
  
"How's your neck feeling?" I finally murmur.  
  
"Mmm. It's better," he answers drowsily.  
  
"Only better? I think we can do better than that." I pull away from him a little so I can move my  
hands up to his neck and begin rubbing. "Tell me when I hit the spot."  
  
His head lolls forward. "At this point, anywhere you hit is a spot, just keep doing what you're  
doing. It feels amazing."  
  
So, I let him enjoy his massage for a while. He's earned it. And I know he'd do the same for me  
if I had a sore spot (I'm considering faking one just so I can get a full body massage out of him,  
but that's a different story).  
  
  
"I owe you big time, Abby," he moans, obviously enjoying the rub down.  
  
"What's to owe?" I ask. "You think this is some kind of chore for me? Believe me, I'm getting  
as much out of it as you are."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Well, for starters, I'm touching you. That makes it a great day in my book. Secondly, we're  
naked in a bathtub, together. That makes a great day even better."  
  
He laughs a little, and pulls at my legs so they're wrapped around his waist. "I know how we can  
make this day unbelievable."  
  
"Oh, really? And here I thought we had that covered with that shower we took this morning," I  
say to him, teasing.  
  
"Okay, then. I know how to make the day supercalifragilisticexpialidotious."   
  
I actually throw my head back and laugh. "Oh, yeah? You think you can live up to that word,  
Johnny boy?"  
  
He groans a little. "Please don't call me Johnny boy. It sounds creepy, like something out of a  
serial killer movie."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"The water's getting cold," he announces.  
  
"Well, what do you suggest we do about it, Dr. Carter?"  
  
He turns his head a little and grins at me devilishly. "I'll give you three guesses, and the first two  
don't count." He stands up and grabs a towel off the rack while getting out of the tub. Then he  
grabs another towel and offers it to me.  
  
I stand up and quickly wrap it around my body; the water may be cooling down, but it's nothing  
compared to how frigid the air feels after sitting in the water for about an hour. Ordinarily, I  
would use the bathrobe that I've all but stolen from John, but after this morning's incident in the  
shower, it's still a little damp. I put it in the dryer, but I just remembered that I forgot to turn it  
on. I'll try to remember to do that later. Right now, I've got more pressing matters to attend to.  
  
I mean, when John Carter is standing almost completely naked in front of me, forgive me for  
completely blanking out on everything else around me. But, damn...he's hot. It's quite  
distracting.  
  
I pull the plug out of the drain before we make our way to the bedroom. Carter wastes no time  
with taking off our towels and throwing them into a heap in the corner. I love how neither of us  
are self-conscious in the slightest about being naked in front of each other. Not even at the  
beginning of our relationship did it bother us. I suppose that when you're as close to a person as  
we are to each other, even before we coupled up, you get past the point where it matters how you  
look naked–just as long as you're naked together.  
  
I look up into his eyes and see that he's no longer being playful; serious Carter has stepped in.   
That's all right with me. I like serious Carter just as much as I like playful Carter. Every Carter  
I've come across in our time together has been fabulous in his own right.  
  
We lay down in bed together, and don't really bother with foreplay. Though, I suppose an hour  
in the tub could be considered foreplay. He makes love to me as if we have all the time in the  
world. We do, I suppose. At least for the moment. This is another one of those moments. I  
really wish it could last forever. But even though it won't, I know we'll have more.  
  
But, dear God, I love how this man makes love to me. He puts his whole body and soul into it.   
He makes me feel like all that matters in the world is me, and it feels absolutely amazing. Of  
course, it does help that he has told me on more than one occasion that I am, in fact, all that  
matters to him in the world. It's nice to be told that once in a while. And John tells me things  
like that on a daily basis. You'd think I'd get tired of it, or that it'd become annoying, but not  
really. I love knowing that I'm important to him.  
  
So, once again, I'm mostly unconscious. Of course, this time I have Carter's warm body directly  
behind me and wrapped around me, instinctively trying to keep me safe from the world. He's the  
only guy I've ever let get away with that. I don't generally feel the need to be protected, but it  
makes him feel better, so I don't really mind. And, even though part of me is loathe to admit it, I  
really kind of like feeling protected by Carter. Maybe that's because he lets me get away with  
protecting him, too. We have a very symbiotic relationship.  
  
I'm having another one of those nights where I just don't want to fall asleep. I'm not really  
worried so much that this is a dream, but I'm just really enjoying the feeling that's washing over  
me right now, and the way I feel in his arms, the feel of his breath on the back of my neck, the  
peace in my soul, the joy in my heart, the contentment in my mind. It all feels too wonderful to  
waste on sleep. However, sleep has a mind of it's own, and I can feel myself drifting off. But  
even as I go, I can tell I'm smiling.  
  
Yeah. He makes me happy. 


	2. The Way You Make Me Feel

Title: I'd Rather Be With You II: The Way You Make Me Feel  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Just a general knowledge of the Carby situation in season 9. Other than that, nothing.   
It's fluff (again).  
  
Archive: Totally. Just email me first so I can visit.  
  
Disclaimer: Yes, they're mine. I created ER and everything that goes along with it at the ripe old  
age of 12 or 13. And, if you believe that, I've got this bridge I want to sell you...some land in  
Florida, too.  
  
  
  
  
  
Okay, I've only been with Carter for just under three months. Why is it that I can see myself  
spending eternity with him? I try to tell myself I'm just in sappy girl mode or something–that I'm  
having some sort of flashback to high school where every guy you went on one date with, you  
married in your mind. You know, the trying on the last name type of thing. But, really, I know  
I'm kidding myself. I think I've fallen off the deep end over this man. And I really have no  
interest in trying to change it.  
  
Part of me–a big part of me–is really sure that he feels the same way about me. I've woken up on  
more than one occasion in the middle of the night only to find him watching me. And he never  
has any kind of reason for it. He just tells me that he likes to look at me, likes to make sure I'm  
real. I don't know how to take that sometimes. It doesn't freak me out–I'm just not used to  
hearing someone tell me that. Of course, I'm often guilty of doing the exact same thing, but he  
doesn't catch me.   
  
But, there's also a small part of me that keeps saying that he doesn't feel this way about me. And  
even though it's only a small part of my psyche, it has a very loud voice. I'm probably paranoid,  
but I can't help but think that one day he's going to wake up and realize that he doesn't want me  
anymore; that things were better when he just simply wanted me as opposed to now, when he has  
me.   
  
I don't know why I think that. He's never given me any reason to think that. He doesn't tell me  
to go away because he needs space, he's always happy to see me or talk to me. I can tell he's  
happy when we go to bed because he doesn't seem to like us not being near each other–he always  
holds me close–he's happy when he wakes up because, if for some unknown reason we've drifted  
apart from each other during the night, he'll make sure to curl up behind me and wrap his arm  
around my waist until I wake up–rather, when I let him know I'm awake. I'm usually aware of  
what he's doing in the early hours of the morning because I've developed a tendency to wake up  
before the alarm ever goes off just so I can lay there with him for a while. He's even happy when  
he sleeps because he always has a little smile on his face.  
  
I suppose it's that whole "once bitten, twice shy" mentality. When you've had the kind of failed  
relationships that I've had, it's hard to let yourself believe that this could be the one. There's  
some small part of me that's afraid to let myself believe. My optimistic half keeps telling me that  
it only takes one time for a relationship to not fail, and the only way to find out if it'll last is to try.   
But my pessimistic side is whispering in my ear that there's no real point in trying because it's just  
going to end badly.  
  
Maybe the pessimistic side is important, though. Maybe having a little bit of doubt will keep me  
from getting cocky and thinking that nothing can tear me apart from Carter. It'll keep me on my  
toes and I'll keep working on our relationship, as opposed to just kind of ignoring it and hoping  
any problems we've had or will have will just go away. Of course, that's my optimistic half  
speaking.   
  
I'm just trying to figure out why I'm so afraid to let Carter know that I want to just be with him  
forever. Well, of course, "forever" can be a scary word at times. Especially early on in a  
relationship. It can sound a bit stalkerish if you use it too early. But, for the love of God, the  
man has wanted me for two years. Why would talking about our future together scare him off?  
  
I guess it's me who's scared. I'm feeling so much so fast right now. There's not a part of me  
that wants to step back for a while, though (not even the pessimistic side), to take a breather from  
all of these emotions, because I'd rather be with Carter and feeling all of this stuff than be without  
him and still feel it, plus the pain of not being with him.   
  
There's no way I can go back at this point. Maybe that's why I was so hesitant about actually  
being in a relationship with Carter. I think I knew that as soon as I was with him, I'd never want  
to be without him. And that's pretty damn scary at times. But, honestly, the thought of not being  
with Carter scares me. It's not that I wouldn't be able to go on with my life without him, I just  
know that I'd never feel this way again about anyone. Ever.   
  
It's all a vicious cycle, really. I worry that he doesn't feel the same way I feel, then I worry that  
maybe I'm feeling too much, then I worry about being without him, then I worry that I'll scare  
him off because he doesn't feel the same way about me, and it keeps going. Fortunately, I don't  
get like this all the time. Once a week, maybe, but not every day. Most days, I'm actually  
content with being Carter's girlfriend. Which, to the part of me that's a feminist, I find slightly  
disgusting because it itemizes me and makes me someone's property. But, I know that he likes  
being Abby's boyfriend. I've heard people at work make references to "Abby's boyfriend," even  
when he's standing right there, and he just grins. So, I guess he likes other people knowing that  
we belong to each other, and therefore I shouldn't be paranoid about letting him know how I feel.   
  
You know, I could be using this time to get some much needed sleep. But noooo.  
  
"You're thinking too much again," he whispers.  
  
I jump a little, then turn my head to face him. And he's looking at me with big concerned eyes, a  
questioning look on his face.  
  
"Something wrong?" he asks.  
  
"What makes you think that?"  
  
"Where should I begin?"  
  
All right, he wants to be a smart ass about it, let him begin. So, I just look at him, waiting for him  
to go on.  
  
He sighs, then shifts a little closer to me in bed. "First of all, you're laying on your back, and you  
don't sleep on your back. You don't even try to sleep on your back. Second, you had a very  
contemplative look on your face at the moment. Third, your eyes were wide open, just staring at  
the ceiling. Last, your entire body is tense. You're so tight it feels like I could bounce a quarter  
off of you."  
  
Okay, so he knows me. He knows me well. He can read me better now after three months than  
Richard could after three years. This should tell me something.  
  
I shrug. "I'm just thinking."  
  
"About?"  
  
"Things."  
  
"Well, gee, never would have guessed that," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
I give him a half-smile at that, then turn on my side so I can look at him better. "I'm sorry. I  
guess I'm just having one of those nights."  
  
"One of what nights?"  
  
"One of those nights where everything you're worried about in life is at the front of your mind  
and that's all you can think about. Haven't you had nights like that?"  
  
He shakes his head slowly. "Not lately, I haven't. I think I'm going to now, though." We're  
both silent for a moment before he speaks up again. "Abby...did I say something or do something  
or–"  
  
"Absolutely not," I exclaim. "You've been nothing short of wonderful, so don't worry."  
  
"Then what's wrong?"  
  
"It's very hard for me to put into words."  
  
"Try."  
  
See, with most people, having someone push me to talk about what I'm worried about would piss  
me off. But with Carter, I need him to do that. Otherwise, I would never say what was bothering  
me or what I was concerned about. And, we promised each other that we'd try to talk about  
things like this. He's just trying to keep me honest.  
  
"I just don't want you to freak out."  
  
"I won't freak out." He gives me an odd look. "Are you...pregnant?"  
  
"Pregnant?!" I snort a little. "Not hardly. But I promise to let you know if that ever comes up."   
I stare at him for several moments before I say, "Would you have freaked out if I was?"  
  
"Probably a little. But I think I'd do that no matter when the situation should happen to arise.   
And you're not going to distract me, Abby. Tell me what's going on."  
  
He's too smart for his own good. I can't get anything past him. Of course, that's ultimately a  
good thing.  
  
Finally, I say, "I was thinking about the future."  
  
"In general, or ours?"  
  
I'm silent for a moment. "Ours."  
  
I wait for him to say something, but he's apparently decided not to interrupt me for now. So, I  
struggle to continue. "I guess I'm not sure if we're in the same place."  
  
"The same place with what?"  
  
"Our relationship."  
  
"What place are you in?"  
  
I shift once again so that I'm on my back. I know it'll be easier to say this while not facing him.   
"In my mind, I've already grown old with you, if that tells you anything. In every scenario I  
envision, we're together. I've imagined quite a few different types of weddings, or that we don't  
get married, but are together anyway and wind up with a common law marriage. I've imagined  
our kids–what they'd look like, how many we'd have, what kind of people they'd be, who they'd  
marry, our grandchildren, sometimes even our great grandchildren...so, that's the place I'm in."  
  
He's silent for a couple of seconds before he asks, "So, what would our kids look like?"  
  
"John," I groan. "Please don't tease me right now. I am emotionally naked and the last thing I  
need is for you to point and laugh."  
  
He chuckles a little at my analogy. "I'm not teasing you. I really want to know what you think  
our kids would look like."  
  
I remain silent. I really do feel like I've said too much.  
  
"Somehow, you've come to the conclusion that I don't feel the exact same way about you."  
  
I think I get whiplash because I turn my head so fast to look at him. "What?"  
  
"You think I haven't picture all of that stuff, too? I have. I did that before we even got together.   
I've pictured so many different scenarios, I should probably be institutionalized." He reaches over  
and plays with my hair. "So, you've been worried about how I would take it if you told me that  
you could see us spending the rest of our lives together?"  
  
"Yeah, pretty much."  
  
"That's kind of ironic."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Because I've been worried about the same thing. I didn't want to tell you because I know I've  
been interested in you a lot longer than you've been interested in me. I've had more time to think  
about these things than you have. And I didn't want you to think I was pushing you into  
something you weren't ready for."  
  
"I'll be honest with you, John. I'm not ready for it. I just know that it's something I want in the  
not-too-distant future."  
  
"I can deal with that," he answers. "That's how I feel, too."  
  
"Good." I smile, then roll over and wrap my arms around him, trying to burrow myself into his  
body.  
  
"Was there anything else that was bothering you?"  
  
"No, that was pretty much it. Everything I was thinking about was centered around whether or  
not you were in the same place as me."  
  
He rubs my back for a while. "So, what do our kids look like?"  
  
I think about it for a moment. "Us. I know that sound pretty generic, but...I see them as the  
perfect combination of us. They always have dark hair and dark eyes, but there's no way we can  
get around that, really. Except with maybe the eyes, but that'd be a couple of really recessive  
genes coming into play."  
  
"I just hope that they wouldn't have my nose."  
  
I laugh. "Why not? What's wrong with your nose?"  
  
"I got harassed about it a lot in school."  
  
"Well, I like your nose. I think it's very distinguished-looking. And, after all, my opinion is the  
only one that counts."  
  
"Of course. Tell me more, though."  
  
"They look different every time, I guess. It just depends on where my mind is at the moment."  
  
"How many kids do you see us having?"  
  
"Usually two or three. Sometimes all girls, sometimes all boys, but most often a combination of  
the two. It'd be nice to have a mix of them. Know what's strange, though?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I've never really let myself think about having kids before. Once in a while, the idea will pop  
into my head, but then I'll push it away because it's too scary to think about."  
  
"But, it doesn't scare you anymore?"  
  
"Well, the thought of parenthood in general always gives me the willies a little, but I'm not as  
worried now about my kids being bi-polar."  
  
He pulls away from me and gives me a questioning look. I don't blame him. I would be  
confused, too.  
  
"Okay, well, I'm always worried that they'd be bi-polar. But, right now, I'm extremely worried  
about how you'd handle it. You're not my father–you won't up and leave just because things get  
too tough. I mean, you've handled my mother. After that, everything else is a walk in the park."  
  
He brings me closer once more. "Trust me, Abby. I'd never leave you. Especially not over  
something like that. It's part of being a parent. You take the good with the bad, and you work  
through it together."  
  
I close my eyes, and we're both silent once more. "Thank you for making me talk about it. You  
have no idea how much better I feel now."  
  
"Anytime. I feel better, too, though. It's quite a load off my mind to know that I'm not going to  
scare you away this early on."  
  
"No chance of that happening," I reassure him, my voice slurring a little with sleepiness.  
  
He doesn't answer me because he's on the edge of sleep. He's such a wonderful man. How did I  
ever get this lucky? I don't know what I did to deserve him, but I'm going to try like hell to keep  
doing it.  
  
I'm just drifting off into sleep when I hear him whisper, "How does John Truman Carter the  
fourth sound to you?"  
  
"It sounds like trouble," I answer. "Go to sleep."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"What have I gotten myself into?" I mumble under my breath as I fall asleep.  
  
Probably the best that's ever happened to me.  
  
  
  
  
*Author's notes: I just want to thank everyone for all of the wonderful support I've been given. I  
don't think any of you could know how much it means to me to know that you enjoy my work  
this much. If it takes a while for each part to come out, it's mainly because I want to make sure  
that it's good enough for you guys, and I hope that I'm doing all right. Thank you again!* 


	3. I Will Take Care Of You

Title: I'd Rather Be With You III: I Will Take Care Of You  
  
Rating: PG, maybe bordering on PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Takes place in between Dead Again and Insurrection, though nothing is mentioned from  
DA, and only one little thing that happens in Insurrection is mentioned.  
  
Archive: If you would like. Just let me know, please.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been. Never will be. Pity, though. I think they have more fun  
with me.  
  
Feedback: Since I'm in serious need of ego-strokage, I would totally appreciate it. Just hit  
review, or email me if you want a response; starbuck_meggie@yahoo.com  
  
  
  
  
  
John Carter is a god.  
  
That's all there is to it.  
  
I am positively goo in his hands right now. Literally.  
  
I'm laying on my stomach right now in his bed like a blob of jello, moaning almost continuously.  
  
The man has magic hands. They should be licensed as deadly weapons.   
  
I swear, I think I've left my body several times over. Each time I leave, though, I beg to get back  
in when I see how much fun I'm having.  
  
I don't know what got into Carter tonight. I came home from work to find his apartment lit only  
in candles. Soft music playing in the background. A heavenly scent wafting out of the kitchen.   
Then he appeared in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. He was only wearing his  
pajama pants and a tshirt, but he looked delicious. He walked over to me and kissed me hello, but  
remained silent. Then he picked up a big bouquet of roses from the couch and handed them to  
me. Red roses. Two dozen of them, to be exact.  
  
I tried to ask him what was going on, but he wouldn't tell me. He just brought me into the  
kitchen and sat me down at the table so he could serve me. I soon found out that the heavenly  
smell was lasagna. Homemade lasagna. I don't think that we've ever cooked in the entire three  
months we've been together. Not dinner, at least.  
  
He really went all out, though. Everything was made from scratch, even the spaghetti sauce.   
Well, he confessed to buying the garlic bread at the store, but I didn't really care. It was  
completely amazing. I didn't know he could cook like this. Apparently, this is what happens  
when he has a day off and I'm not around to keep him occupied. Not too shabby, if I say so  
myself.  
  
He wouldn't even let me help clear the table when we were done cooking. He made me go sit in  
the living room while he loaded the dishwasher, and kept me waiting while he disappeared into  
the bedroom. All the while, I was trying to figure out what was going on. I was mentally going  
through the date in my mind, trying to remember if the date was significant to us or something. It  
wasn't some kind of anniversary, it wasn't a birthday. I suppose he doesn't need a reason to cook  
dinner, but it seems like there's got to be something going on.  
  
I hadn't realized that I'd almost slipped into a post-dinner coma until he had my hand in his and  
was trying to pull me to my feet. He practically had to carry me, but we finally made it to the  
bedroom. Once I saw what was waiting for me, I was wide awake.  
  
He really had gone all out. There were candles all over the place, flickering gently. Rose petals  
covered the bed and the floor around it. It was completely incredible. The sight of it just took my  
breath away.  
  
I finally turned to him and said, "What's this all about?"  
  
"Do I need a reason to pamper my girlfriend?"  
  
"No, but...damn. This is amazing."  
  
"We all deserve the royal treatment once in a while. And today, I just felt like taking care of you.   
That okay?"  
  
"It's more than okay. It's...it's...wow. I'm actually speechless right now. I have no words to  
describe what this is. The best I can do is to say that it's perfect."  
  
"It gets better, though. But you'll have to take off your clothes."  
  
"Oh, that was subtle."  
  
"I didn't mean for that. Take off your clothes, and you'll find out."  
  
So, I stripped down, and he led me over to the bed, where he spread out a sheet on top of the  
rose petals, then made me lay face down. When he didn't take off his own clothes, I began to  
wonder. Then he straddled my thighs, and I really became curious. I was going to ask him what  
he was doing, but I felt a warm pool of liquid land on my back, and he started to rub me in small,  
slow circles.  
  
"Full body massage, at your service," he whispered, then he really went to work on me.  
  
Hence why I am now a puddle of goo. It just feels so out-of-this-world. I don't ever want him to  
stop. Even if I died right now, I'd be the happiest woman on earth. Of course, the downside to  
dying right now would be that I would miss the rest of this massage, so I hope I hold on for a  
while longer.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asks quietly.  
  
"Mmmm," I mumble.  
  
He chuckles and says, "So good you can't even form words, huh?"  
  
"Mmhmm." I don't think I could form words right now if my life depended on it.  
  
He is such a wonderful man. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this, but I can only pray  
that I keep doing it. How many women are lucky enough to come home from work to find that  
her boyfriend has bought her roses, cooked her dinner, and then wants to give her a massage? I  
think I may be in the minority of women who are that lucky. I mean, he even put a sheet on top  
of the rose petals so they wouldn't stick to the oil slick that is now my body. How many guys  
would think of that?  
  
The main side effect from this massage, aside from becoming mush, is that my body is overly  
sensitive to his touch. Everything from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. Even my teeth  
are sensitive at this point. Anytime he touches me, I feel like I'm being set on fire–in a good way,  
of course.   
  
At that point, he leans up and plants a few small kisses on the back on my neck and between my  
shoulder blades, then slides off of me and lays down beside me. I manage to pry my eyes open  
and smile at him.  
  
"Thank you," I mumble.  
  
"You are more than welcome," he says, kissing the tip of my nose.  
  
"Seriously, though, what was this all about? There's got to be some reason you got me this  
relaxed. A big bombshell, perhaps? You're getting a sex-change operation."  
  
"Nope. No ulterior motives. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Of course, it was nice  
for me, too, because I got to put my hands all over your body."  
  
I really want to know what I did to deserve this man. I mean, this has got to be the most amazing  
thing anyone has ever done for me. In some respects, it's so simple, but at the same time, it  
means so much. All he wanted to do was something nice for me. He doesn't want anything in  
return; he just wants me to feel good. I feel good with him all the time, though. I just feel  
exceptionally good right now.  
  
I watch as he stands up and wonder where he's going. I don't wonder long because he only  
moves around to my side of the bed. He slides one arm under me to lift me up a little, then uses  
the other to slide the comforter and sheet down under me. Once he does that, he covers me up  
and disappears again. I hear him blowing out candles in the living room, then he comes back to  
me. I watch him strip down then slide into bed next to me. I use some of my slowly returning  
energy to move closer and drape an arm over him. This feels perfect.  
  
We're just relaxing together, not saying anything, really, but I can feel myself coming to life a  
little more as each moment passes. I'd really like to return the favor, somehow, so I'm hoping he  
doesn't fall asleep before I manage to regroup. Then I notice something strange about the sheets.  
  
I manage to lift my head and look at him. "Satin sheets? You bought new sheets today, too?"  
  
He gives me a cute little grin. "Yep. I thought they'd feel nice for what I had in mind. Do they?"  
  
"They feel incredible. Thank you. God, when you decide to do something, you really don't fool  
around, do you?"  
  
"Why do something half-assed when you go all the way? If I'm going to pamper my girlfriend,  
I'm going to pamper my girlfriend."  
  
"You are the most amazing man on the planet, you know that?" I lean over and give him a big  
kiss on the lips.  
  
"Hey, I'm just trying to do what any guy would do for his favorite girl."  
  
"Trust me, Carter. No guy would do this for any girl. At least no guys I know."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really. No one has ever done this for me, or for any of my friends. And believe me, this is the  
kind of thing you tell your friends about."  
  
"So does that mean Susan's going to hear all about it?"  
  
"Probably. Maybe not all the details, but she'll have a good idea of what went on."  
  
He groans a little. "You do realize that if you tell her about it, everyone in the ER will know by  
the end of the day."  
  
I shrug, then prop myself up on my elbow, more of my strength coming back to me. "I'm okay  
with that. I have no problems with everyone knowing what a wonderful man you are."  
  
He's silent for a moment. "Are you serious about other guys not doing things like this for their  
girlfriends?"  
  
"Completely serious."  
  
He shakes his head. "I don't get it. Why wouldn't they want to do something like this once in a  
while."  
  
"Too much effort, I guess. It's been my experience that most guys are interested in what they'll  
get from the evening, so if they're not on the receiving end of a wonderful dinner and full-body  
massage, they're not going to bother."  
  
"That makes absolutely no sense." He props himself up on his elbow, too, so he can look at me.   
"Call me old-fashioned, but I kind of like taking care of the woman I'm with. Especially when she  
works just as hard, if not harder, than I do. How can a guy not get something from a night like  
this? Knowing that you've made someone happy should be enough."  
  
"You're a dying breed, John. That's why you won't hear about many guys doing something like  
this."  
  
He lets out a little huff. "I'm almost ashamed to be a man."  
  
"Don't be ashamed to be a man. Men are great. It's the 'boys' and 'guys' that you have to look  
out for."  
  
"I just like seeing you happy. And if something as simple as dinner and flowers and a massage can  
do that, then by all means, that's what I'm going to do."  
  
I lean over and kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him some more. I know I keep saying this, but  
he's just such an amazing man. Eventually, I release him and come up for air. "I'm happy. I'm  
very, very happy. I'm so unbelievably happy that I found a man like you."  
  
He picks up my hand kisses the palm. "I'm happy, too, Abby. So happy."  
  
I don't think I can take much more of this before I start getting misty-eyed, so I lay down once  
more, and he follows suit, pulling me close to him. We're both quiet for a while.  
  
Finally, I remember something I wanted to tell him. "Oh, guess what?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"My brother called me at work. He's coming in for a visit in a couple of weeks."  
  
"That's great," he tells me, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He knows how much I love my  
little brother.  
  
"I haven't seen him in forever. It'll be great to see him again."  
  
"When did he get back from Saudi Arabia?"  
  
"A couple of weeks ago. And he decided that first thing he wanted to do was visit his favorite  
sister."  
  
"Aren't you his only sister?"  
  
"Don't ruin this for me," I say, poking his side playfully.  
  
He pokes me back and says, "How long is he going to be in town."  
  
"Don't know yet. Probably a few days. I told him we'd take him out to dinner or something."  
  
"Sounds good to me. I guess this means you told him you have a significant other now."  
  
"Yeah, I told him. He was pretty happy for me, especially when I said it was you."  
  
"Me? Why me?"  
  
"Because I've talked to him about you before and he kept telling me to, and this is a direct quote,  
'tap that ass,' whatever that's supposed to mean."  
  
He pulls away from me a little and looks at me. "What did you tell him about me?"  
  
"Just general stuff. But I've been talking about you for a couple of years, and Eric's always been  
able to read me pretty well. For the most part, though, he's just happy for me." I snuggle closer  
to him once again.  
  
"Well, I can't wait to meet him."  
  
"I think you'll really like him. He's very easy to get along with, unlike his big sister."  
  
"You're easy to get along with."  
  
"No, I'm not. I can be, once you get to know me. But I come off as fairly unpleasant at first."  
  
He shrugs. "If you say so. I've never had any trouble with you, though."  
  
"That's because you're special."  
  
"Riiiiiight."  
  
"You are!"  
  
"Oh, I know."  
  
"And modest to boot."  
  
He chuckles, then lowers his face to my neck and I begins to give me what I believe will turn out  
to be a hicky. Apparently, he's in "mark my territory" mode. That's all right with me. Especially  
since I'll turn around do the same exact thing to him.  
  
"So, how are you feeling now?" he manages to ask.  
  
"I'm feeling great," I answer, though it comes out sounding like a moan.  
  
"Wanna feel even better?"  
  
"You're going to massage me again?" I ask, teasing.  
  
"Something like that. I'm hoping to rock your world in the process."  
  
"My world has already been rocked by you."  
  
"Let's see if we can shake it off it's axis then, shall we?"  
  
I love it when he's in this kind of mood. For a few hours, his only goal in life is to please me. So  
far, he has always managed to succeed. I have a feeling that it will never be too hard for him to  
manage that, though.   
  
Without me even noticing, he has shifted our bodies so that I'm on my back, and he is on top of  
me, and he has begun to kiss every part of me that he can reach. It's like being massaged with his  
lips. On one side of me, I have satin sheets, and on the other side, I have John Carter. What  
more does a girl need?  
  
I wrap my arms around him, and begin to kiss him everywhere I can reach, trying to return the  
favor.   
  
I love being with this man. Sometimes just thinking about him and the fact that I'm with him  
sends chills up my spine. I really am incredibly lucky.  
  
He's really making good on his idea to rock my world. I think the earth is moving. The angels  
are weeping. The stars are dancing.  
  
I really do think we manage to shake the world off its axis. 


End file.
